


Blood Like Wine

by sylvain



Series: A Case of You [3]
Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Dom Vera Stone, F/M, Femdom, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Kneeling, Light Dom/sub, Magic, Sexual Tension, Sub Hamish Duke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvain/pseuds/sylvain
Summary: To save herself and Hamish from his sudden transformation, Vera over-casts her sleeping spells. He wakes at her home disoriented and overwhelmed.
Relationships: Hamish Duke/Vera Stone
Series: A Case of You [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039533
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	Blood Like Wine

**Author's Note:**

> In regard to the timeline/canon-divergence: at this point Lilith is in the demon realm. The Knights are again under the control/spell of The Order, unaware they are werewolves.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos on Part 1. And a special thanks to Quibilah, equandt, and Once_upon_a_midnight_story for your comments. Your encouragement helped moved this fic from my mind to the page. I hope you enjoy.

Magic coils the chain around his neck and Vera pulls. It’s pure luck that she'd been at her desk, that she'd had the enchanted chain at arms length, when Hamish cried out. 

Covering his ears, he falls to his knees. Vera holds her breath as his eyes turn to ice. 

They had been strategizing in her office. Arguing about some silly thing. Hamish at the disadvantage, always. He never has enough information to put up a real fight.

It all seems trivial now.

The alarm of dark magic calls to him, urges his body to transform, and he writhes against the restraints. Vera adjusts her grip and the links tighten. It doesn’t escape her how much he looks like a man on a leash. 

But he’s so much more than a man. And a leash won't tame one such as him.

Hamish's wild blue eyes look up at her as he claws the floor. His nails drag uselessly over the stone. He gnashes his teeth. But he hasn't reached for the chain.

Vera doesn't have more than a second to wonder why. He’s moving toward her.

“Dormitum Dimittatur,” Vera casts, and sleep takes him in an instant. 

The chain pulls as Hamish collapses in a heap. Vera releases it quickly, letting the shackles clatter to her feet. And then she's at his side. Her hands pass delicately over his throat. The caress, an apology. 

Moving him isn’t difficult, having finely honed her telekinesis over the years, but finding a place to hide a grown man is a challenge. The others will return soon to give report on their werewolf charges. She has to move fast.

Vera increases the potency of her sleep spell- “Sopite” -and tucks Hamish out of sight. 

He folds neatly under the oak desk, curled in on himself. His face has gone slack, but Vera remembers the way his lip curled in its snarl. 

Hamish’s hidden strength enticed her from their first meeting. But seeing him like this - in the illusion he’s some small, fragile thing, after coming so close to his raw power made flesh - has her ensnared. 

Her eyes catalogue the angles of his face. Even knowing the beast under the surface, affection expands warm in her chest. 

Vera moves the chains to his wrists and pillows his head upon them. Adjusts the angle of his neck just so. She scoffs at what little comfort she can provide. 

The sound of her Magistratus's impatient knock comes sooner than she expects. Vera pauses over Hamish, moves a stray hair off his face, and caresses his cheek before she stands.

With a gesture Vera opens the doors and Selena rushes in with Gabrielle and Angus on her heels. 

“It happened again." Gabrielle announces, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks more annoyed than contrite. "But Randall and Jack ran off before anyone saw them."

Vera turns to Selena for her excuse, knowing full well she's clueless as to Hamish's whereabouts. 

“Professor Kean needed coverage for her night class.” Selena holds herself upright even under Vera’s scrutiny. “I can’t watch him every moment…” She goes on, but her attempt to justify her ignorance wavers. “I don’t… I don’t know where he is. Probably with the others."

Vera plants her hands on her desk, shielding Hamish’s body with her own. “Must I do everything myself?”

“Yes, Magus,” Selena repents in a rush. “I mean, no, Magus.”

Vera’s glare would burn the Magistratus in her spot if it could. “Grand Magus,” Vera snaps.

Selena takes a step back and the three young practitioners bow their heads. “I’m sorry, Grand Magus.”

“Get out,” Vera says, her tone grave. “Leave Hamish Duke to me.”

Selena looks up in shock. 

“Be grateful that’s the only responsibility I’m stripping from you, Selena. You’re not so hard to replace.”

Selena nods and Vera raises her voice again. “Get out!”

The doors close behind the young practitioners and Vera breathes deeply, both relief and frustration. Beneath the desk, Hamish stirs. 

His hand brushes Vera's heeled shoe and she crouches to check on him. “What am I going to do with you?” 

The red marks on his neck turn white at the barest touch of her hand.

Hamish moans as if in response, and his fingers curl possessively around her ankle. 

Unwilling to risk him waking up like this, Vera cups her palm over his fluttering eyelids and casts sleep on him again.

⁂

Hamish wakes slowly. First, a crick in his back begging him to stretch. Next, a burst of pain behind his eyes stirring him fully to consciousness. He doesn't remember drinking. Then again, he doesn't really feel hungover. 

Hamish rolls onto his side and bites back a hiss. His shirt scratches like burlap against his skin. 

He wrinkles his nose against the sharp smells of the home. Fabric softener. Charred meat and herbs. The scents fill the room and his stomach roils. He gingerly brings his feet to the floor to sit up. 

The change in position doesn't agree with him either. Pressure builds behind his eyes. There's a pounding in his skull. And as the thin blanket falls from his shoulders, he notices the chill that’s settled in him, bone deep. 

Hamish squints as his eyes adjust and he finds he's grateful for the dimly lit room, even though finding himself in a strange place ignites his anxiety. 

Sound rushes toward him, and while he knows it’s coming from far away, the scrape of metal on metal echoes like it's directly at his ear. 

He breathes through it. Struggles to focus on something else. 

Anything else.

There’s a light crackle from the fireplace. A gentle roar as the flames lick dry logs. 

Hamish lets the natural sounds fill his awareness and the rest begins to fall away. 

He's drawn across the room, and before he realizes, he’s on his knees, pressing his hands against hot stone. 

He lowers his head to the hearth, as if bowing in thanks for the soothing heat, for the earthy sounds and smells. 

Hamish doesn’t stray far. He finds an armchair, but doesn’t trust himself to climb into it. The floor feels safer. The carpet is lush. He curls his toes into the fibers and draws his knees to his chest. 

His fingers rub circles over his temples as his heart thunders against his ribs.

There's magic in the air. Incantations dimming the glow of the fire, spells radiating a heat that brings to mind much larger flames.

Hamish lets the fire warm his back as he turns more fully toward the chair. 

He's woken in strange places before. Even felt the remnants of magic on him while his memories were in hazy disarray. For a reason he can’t place, his mind reaches for evidence of Selena. 

But with his face against the cushion, he recognizes Vera's perfume. The scent of safety and strength. He inhales deeply and relief floods his veins, pacifies his racing heart.

He's wrung out, exhausted. But knowing Vera is nearby is a balm to his distress.

⁂

Vera finds Hamish curled up beside her chair. The blanket long since abandoned on the couch; he's shivering. 

A little influence on the fire increases the temperature in the room and she takes a seat. She’s not imagining it when Hamish shifts toward her and not away.

Vera places a plate and a glass on the end table, and Hamish lifts his nose in interest. A growl rolls in his chest in tandem with one his stomach gives in hunger. 

He watches the approach of her hand as she tentatively, cautiously, lowers it to his head. His hair falls like silk through her fingers. 

Hamish melts under her attention. He releases a shaky breath and what could be a whimper. His stomach growls again. 

Her hands leave him for a moment but when they return, there's a fork and food. Vera brings a piece of steak to his lips. 

It’s seared and spiced and Hamish turns his face at the offer. 

“You should eat,” she says, and he presses his forehead against the armrest in protest. He waves her hand away and the fork falls to the floor.

Hamish tenses, brings his clumsy hands behind his back, and stares guiltily at the stain on the carpet. But Vera merely sighs.

She cuts a fresh cube of meat, picks it up between her fingers and holds it out for inspection. The rare, unseasoned cut glistens, pulling Hamish's gaze.

His mouth waters and she brings the meat closer. She gives his bottom lip a gentle nudge. 

With his eyes locked on hers, Hamish takes the offering from Vera's hand. His teeth graze her fingertips and a shiver dances up her arm. 

Hamish chews and swallows, closing his eyes in relief. He hasn’t eaten properly in days. He parts his lips for more. 

Vera watches his throat work as he swallows another bite, and her heart twists at the sight of dark bruises blooming under his skin. To think she caused him this pain. 

She lays a hand upon his neck and runs the other over his jaw. Feels his muscles tense and release. He draws in a sharp breath.

“Sanetur,” she whispers, heals.

He exhales.

Vera feeds him carefully. Holding each piece of meat to his mouth. When Hamish's lips part, she holds steady, letting him rise up and take at his own pace. 

He quietly accepts each morsel with the slide of his tongue. He sucks the juices from her fingers when they linger on his mouth.

When his stomach is heavy, he leans into her legs, lays his head on her thigh, and sinks into her care. 

Vera offers silent comfort by the fire, never leaving him long without her touch, until his eyes find hers again. 

"Did you do this to me?" Hamish asks, his voice hoarse from disuse. Confusion is written in his expression. A question about tonight and so much more. Even still, there's devotion. There's trust.

Vera pets his head, stalling. She drags her thumb over the corner of his mouth, wipes drying blood from his lip. 

The truth will hurt. 

But Hamish's eyes go soft as he turns into her touch, nuzzling her palm, and she can no longer abide the lies. 

"Oh, pet," she purrs as he takes her thumb between his teeth. 

Vera cradles his face and watches the flames flicker and spark in his eyes. She holds Hamish firm as she promises - to him, to herself - "I'll make it right."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Next up: Hamish's memories are restored. Hurt/comfort. Bathing/washing. :*


End file.
